


18 and Life

by barakatballs



Category: CZW, Combat Zone Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, based on the skid row song, really sad idk, tw: child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2538836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barakatballs/pseuds/barakatballs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were supposed to last till the end, to be soul mates with each other’s backs; they were untouchable, almost invincible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	18 and Life

**Author's Note:**

> jon moxley and sami callihan au   
> I hate myself for writing this

_They were supposed to last till the end, to be soul mates with each other’s backs; they were untouchable, almost invincible._

Outsiders, outcasts, misfits whatever the title, they owned it. The street dogs, Jon Moxley and Sami Callihan, had no one else except each other. The two clicked as if they were missing halves. Secrets were whispered and oaths sworn between the two in hushed words; it was no one’s business but their own to know what was going on at home. Bruises were hidden under sleeves, torn skin explained as accidents and clumsiness; excuse after excuse escaped their lips on routine, lying on repetition soon evolved to habit.

But for Moxley, the continuity of sputtering out lie after lie began nauseating him. He couldn’t think straight anymore as his mind would piercingly think about if the tone of his deceit was believable.

Sami said it was.

Sami would say anything to please Moxley.

As they roamed, all eyes were drawn to Moxley and Sami as if they were steel to magnets. They knew it was not just their divergent appearance – the ragged hair, ripped clothing, and wearing of metallic chains – that drew everyone’s attention to them.

No. It was the dried smeared blood stains on their t-shirts, the scraped black-and-blue legs visibly seen under the ripped jeans and the never ending curiosity of how the hell were these _children_ alive?

Sami chose to ignore it. For a boy, barley seventeen years old, with such a short stature, unruly jet black strands of hair along with a growing, disheveled beard; he was used to being ‘cautiously observed’.

It did no bother to him.

But for Moxley, although he shrugged his shoulders and muttered a casual “fuck you” to whoever had a problem with him, lived in paranoia. 

Moxley couldn’t erase the countless eyes staring at him as he smothered his face in the pillow. Keeping him up was the fear that the eyes saw through his harsh exterior and right into the vulnerability he hid so well that not even Sami, his dubbed little brother, could detect.

 _Jon Moxley was not human_ he told himself, and he did not to have to succumb to man’s burdens _– Jon Moxley was a god._

He was unconquerable. It was better to be feared then to be loved. And so, starting from the absolute bottom of the hell, Moxley hauled himself up as he built a reputation – “the walking switchblade.”

If someone slaps you on one cheek, you break their neck.

With every hand he broke, no one dared to lay a finger on Moxley. With every face he bashed in, everyone simply turned the other cheek. As his piercing blue eyes stared into yours, you never question the dark bags underneath; you never questioned the scars and marks on his arms, you never spoke back to Jon Moxley.

Unless you were Sami Callihan.

The origin of their friendship is still skeptical. No one really knows how the two got together; even the word on the street had nothing to say. 

Just one day instead of one loner, there was now two.

Word said he wasn’t from the town. Sami hailed from a little nowhere called Bellefontaine. After his mother passed, Sami along with his father tried to start a new life somewhere else.

Cincinnati did not welcome Sami Callihan kindly, but Jon Moxley did.

Rejects who bore the same cross together.

But only one would be nailed to it.

Sami knew everything about Jon. Even the information Moxley didn’t want anyone to know.

He never asked directly and he never did, but Sami always assumed. 

He assumed when Moxley tapped on his window in the dead of night, asking the young boy if he could help remove the shard pierced into his arm.

_“How the hell did this happen?”_

_“Some punk got angry at Tico’s bar and he slashed me –”_

_“The bar is closed now.”_

_“Shut up and help me.”_

He assumed when he caught a glimpse of the bruised neck, hidden behind the denim collar of Moxley’s favorite jacket.

He assumed whenever Moxley had to cancel their plans on a payphone due to _“Mom’s um sick, and I gotta…I can’t leave tonight. I’ll see you later Sami.”_

He assumed whenever he raised his hand for a high-five, Moxley flinched.

Sami no longer assumed the day when he walked right into Moxley getting beaten right on his own doorstep.

It wasn’t his father because Moxley didn’t have one. He didn’t need one. He was a god, remember?

It was one of the men Moxley’s mom whore’d with and more than a couple of dollars was taken out of his wallet. Sami could see them crunched inside Moxley’s fist.

Sami was only a block away, but he could see what was going on and immediately sprinted on his legs.

Moxley was on the ground, his stomach getting repeatedly kicked and stepped on until Sami tackled from the behind, dropping the man onto the floor and beginning to land to his own punches. Moxley cowered on the floor for a moment, gripping his bruised abdomen as Sami played his part in the brawl. Clutching his stomach and carefully getting on his feet, Moxley grabbed Sami off the bloody man who laid half-conscious on the floor and screamed _“Run!”_

Sami couldn’t comprehend what was happening, but he listened.

He always listened.

Moxley joined him, gripping the boy’s wrist and pulling him forward faster.

“Where are we going?” Sami gasped.

“Away from here,” Moxley assured. “We’re leaving.”

“Cincinnati?”

“Ohio.”

Sami’s eyes widened. What was Moxley asking of him? To leave…to leave Ohio? Sami understood why _Moxley_ would want to leave, but Sami had a father, he had a girlfriend, _Sami had a life._

Moxley could see the hesitation in Sami’s eyes and stopped in his tracks abruptly. Sami shortly followed and lifted his head to lock contact with Mox’s pale blues.

“You want to stay, don’t you?

“I never said that.”

“ _Don’t lie to me.”_ Moxley groaned, shaking his head furiously in hopes to clear it. “I know you Sami. So don’t pull something on me.”

“Mox,” Sami stressed, stumbling on his words as he stood towered by the older man, he was lost for words. “Where the hell would we go?”

Reasoning always worked for Moxley.

“North.” Moxley sat himself on an adjacent bench, stuffing the crumpled blood money into his pocket. Sami could see something else was in there as well.

“Like New York?”

“Oh, hell no.” Moxley spat. “I fucking hate New York.”

Sami began to grow agitated. Here was Jon Moxley telling him to go abandon his life, and join him on some adventure to nowhere. Sami understood Moxley’s reasons, but he knew Moxley wouldn’t let him go. He had subconsciously become a part of the hectic life of one Jon Moxley, and there was no going back now.

“What about Pennsylvania?” Sami sat down on the curb, wrapping his arms around his torso. He always did that when he was nervous. “Maybe if we have enough cash, we can make it.” 

“The fucker had forty on him.” Mox growled, his fingers slightly twitching but he shielded them from Sami’s sight. “Tickets maybe we can get but food and booze are going to be hard.” 

“Not to mention he’s probably going to report us,” Sami whispered, noticing some blood on his jeans and it wasn’t from him.

“He fucking attacked me first!” Mox screamed, shooting up to his feet and startling Sami as he pointed a crooked finger directly in his face. “You saw him, Sami! I was defenseless and he kept on kicking and kicking -,”

“Keep your voice down!” Sami hissed as he shot to his fight, smacking Moxley’s hand out of his face. “Look Mox, I know it ain’t your fault but who’s the cops gonna believe? Him or some punks on the street?”

Moxley stood silent, turning his shaggy hair covered head away as he accepted defeat. Sami was right. He always was.

But Moxley wasn’t the one to give up so easy.

“My mom has some cash.”

Sami didn’t hear his mumble. “Come again?”

“My mom, Sami.” Moxley found himself smiling. “God knows how much money she makes when she whores around, she’ll have hundreds in her purse.”

“We can snatch it tonight and make a run to the terminal and get the hell outta here!” Moxley grinned as he finished his plan to Sami. “But I’m not going alone. It’s either you’re coming with me or not. I’m not leaving without you.”

“Mox…” Sami was lost for words. He wanted to convince Mox that he asked for too much of him, but Sami understood one thing. He needed to get Moxley somewhere safer, out of Ohio and into another, safer state where Moxley could start new, start fresh and redo his entire life.

Perhaps Sami needed a breather from Ohio as well, and maybe Sami would no longer have to see anymore scars on Moxley’s skin.

And Sami was willing to sacrifice everything for some street dog from Cincinnati.

“I’m with you.”

“I knew you’d be.”

**Author's Note:**

> chapter two will be the final chapter


End file.
